


Surface Tension

by Meri_Specty



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Arson, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, High School, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, Soft Damien LaVey, band au (temp), drugs in general, mainly because of damien, polly's in this story after all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29189310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meri_Specty/pseuds/Meri_Specty
Summary: Love can be found in very, VERY unexpected ways. But it doesn't help when the two lovebirds involved are both as dense as brick walls about it.~My first posted fic on AO3! I'm getting used to the site, so here's to hoping it works out!
Relationships: Damien LaVey/Yellow | Oz
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	Surface Tension

Tension is a strange word. After all, with so many definitions clinging to it, and so many implications by the word, it’s a true wildcard. Currently? Oz was overridden by tension. Without a doubt, the stiffness in his joints and muscles must’ve been tension. It makes the slightest movements shaky and jerky, quite the opposite of what he needed in a situation this delicate. One small misstep and it all falls apart. However, the tension wasn’t just affecting the quaking boy currently. It was never that simple, hence the wildcard analogy. Tension also filled the air. It was thick with tension. Breathing in felt like a true struggle, yet exhaling was much harder. The air, while still gaseous, felt solid with that strange word mixed in. A truly powerful, entrapping feeling-

“Fuck!”

Just in a second, the tension vanished, a tower of wooden blocks crashing down with it. Oz sighed out in relief, despite not actually having lungs. The strenuous mood was caused by none other than a very intense jenga game. After all, Oz had friends over! Three friends, to be precise. The group of four had been playing Wildcard Jenga for what must’ve been the past 30 minutes, drawing cards after their turns to add extra spice. Amira, a flame Djinn, was the one to finally knock the tower over. Dejectedly she was grumbling and collecting the wooden blocks to sort them back into the box, as all losers are tasked to do. Next to her was Vicky, the Frankenstein monster laughing at her friend’s defeat. Across from them both was Oz, and the final friend joining them today. Brian, the giant stoic zombie. But even his mouth turned up at the corners at the friendly banter. 

“You know what that means~!” Vicky teases, poking Amira repeatedly in the side. Most of their challenges involving Amira tended to involve betting as well. As much as Amira loves to bet, she hates losing. It’s a bad combination, especially with her hot headed nature on top of it. Grumbling all sorts of curses, Amira rolls her eyes and answers. 

“Yeah, yeah Vik. I’ll buy dinner next time. Big whoop.” Amira angrily responded. This was the last game of the afternoon, unfortunately. While the four of them do hang out at Oz’s house often, high school is rapidly approaching. Busy schedules mean less time together. “But not right now. We’ve got to go home.” Amira continues, seeming to be following a similar train of thought. 

“Mm... okay! But I’m holding you to it!” Vicky gleefully responds, bouncing up off of the couch. It’s no surprise how high-energy she is, with how much caffeine she consumes and how many batteries she has on her person at all times. The others seemed to start following suit, complaining, or teasing, under their breath at the outcome of the game. This was a common procedure for their hangouts as well, as they lined up against a wall. 

If you were unfamiliar with this occurrence, it might look like a police lineup. Following them in getting to his feet, Oz walked over to his friends. Giving them a smile -as best he could with his eyes, as he didn’t have a mouth- he lightly pushed each of them into the wall, and effectively into their shadow. See, Oz had the brilliant power of the void on his side. So long as it’s a big enough shadow, Oz can travel and move items and people through it. Making sure each of them got sent home safely, Oz was satisfied.

The void was something he’s known his entire life, a mote of transportation for him as easy as just walking. With a stretch and a yawn, Oz walked back to his living room. The void was directly connected with Oz’s consciousness as well, which is how he knew all of them made it safely through. In simplest terms... The void is some weird pocket dimension within Oz, that he uses shadows to enter and exit from. At least, that’s his own understanding of it. Such complex matters don’t really need too much detail. It’s better to ignore it and keep hoping it works.

Picking up the snack wrappers, Oz’s own stomach grumbled insistently. A few squeaks also decided to be heard now, as Oz noticed small bumps appearing on his arms. No, nothing medical. These little things were Phobias. A leading cause of Oz’s intense anxiety, or so he joked. Really they were just another part of the boy made from dark matter. They all seemed sentient, with their own thoughts and opinions. But there’s millions of them, so Oz is thankful they only appear every so often. They stared and squeaked at him insistently as his stomach grumbled uncomfortably again. Rolling his eyes, Oz tossed the trash in the bin. 

“I’ll get something to eat once I finish cleaning up.” That was met with angry squawks. “No I can’t just clean later! What if my landlord comes by!” Oz could almost hear the arguments from the Phobias, if it weren’t for the fact he decided to tune them out. Sucks to be them. Oz really liked having a squeaky clean apartment. Not only did it mean his house was always the first choice for hangouts, but it gave him something to do with his time. 

As for Oz’s house itself, it wasn’t too impressive decoratively. Minimalist would be the best way to describe it, but another acceptable way was “just moved in and didn’t unpack”. Except, Oz has been living here for a few months, and this is all he owned. Minimal kitchen supplies, a bed in a bedroom he never used, a few spare clothes, a bathroom, his living room, and the closet for his laundry machines. The only flairs of color were from the comic and game shelves Oz installed, or the decorations his friends left. Vicky left flowers on the kitchen counter, Amira set up scented candles all around. Brain just seemed to leave some sort of blanket or pillow on the couch every time he swung by. Really, the small grey couch now looked like some artistic two year old’s favorite doodle spot. Most of the items gifted were sorted in the living room. That was because it’s where Oz’s friends and him primarily hung out. Whether it be to play competitive video and board games, or just to rant about some stupid person they encountered.

Truthfully, Oz didn’t mind how dull his house was. There wasn’t even really a need for a house to begin with, yet still he had one. But the stale decoration made trash and messes left behind especially stand out. After all, a bright yellow candy wrapper in the center of the room? Eye catching. Once those were picked up though, Oz finally gave into the peer pressure from Arachnophobia and Thanatophobia yelling at him. It was time to eat. Making way past the kitchen and sitting area, Oz picked up his house keys and exited his apartment. 

It was about mid-day still, sometime early afternoon. There wasn’t a lot of sunshine past the cloudy sky, but that’s perfect. The entire world was cast in a partial shadow, which is more than helpful for Oz’s escapades. See, the silhouette dressed in yellow didn’t eat normal food. In fact, he didn’t need to do almost anything most creatures do. Eating and drinking food and water wasn’t really necessary. Sleeping wasn’t either, which is why Oz’s bedroom was pretty much just there for show, or his friends sleeping over. The only real thing Oz needed was fear.

Yes, the emotion of fear.

That’s all Oz needed. Really, do people even seem to realize how much energy they let out while being scared? A lot, that’s all he can say. Remnants of fear were left literally everywhere you go that living things occupy. However, it’s much better to find fear directly at some sort of source. So, while walking around the street for a while might supply him with the residual fear stuck to lamp posts and mailboxes, it wasn’t even equivalent to a single piece of popcorn.

Deeper into town Oz crept, wondering where to go. Typically, bars would be a fine place. But only in the shady areas. Or, amusement parks were another prime feeding spot. But the weird looks..? Debatable. There was only so long Oz could wait at the exit of the giant roller coaster before people started to stare. No, a bar should be fine. Taking a turn to downtown, Oz wondered which bar to visit today. Clubs were all immediately exempt. Too many people, too much dancing, too many handsy folk… no thank you. A small pub at the end of the street would be fine. That’s where Oz made his way to. 

Reaching the small facility, he started to step up to the front door. From underneath it, a familiar sight started to gravitate towards him. It looked like a sludge made entirely out of smoke, pitch black, with tendrils sticking to the underside of the door that it was drifting out of. That right there was fear. Normally the lingering emotion is invisible to the naked eye, but anytime Oz came into close contact, it started to look like this. Lowering his hand, Oz absorbed the gaseous substance as he opened the door to the pub. Or, at least tried to. Meeting resistance from the door was a shock, as Oz stood back up. The small snack was pleasant but distracted him from a sign left on the door. 

_ “Out of booze. Please don’t rob us” _

Huh. That.. was oddly specific. Feeling another pang in his stomach, Oz sighed and turned around. So, pub number one was closed. Great. Down the stairs he stepped, proceeding further into the downtown area. Small puffs of blackened fear followed Oz, but it was barely noticeable. There needed to be a better source. Something like.. A fight, a robbery, or a mugging. 

Well, Oz’s call was answered. Wondering where else to go, the answer was provided as a certain scent blew past him. Smoke. With the smell of smoke, Oz could faintly hear the sound of sirens. Looking around at the rooftops, Oz found the cause only a few streets over. A building was on fire. Bingo! Providing that there was actually some sort of living thing trapped in the fire, Oz would be set! Quickly stepping into a nearby alleyway, Oz melded into the shadows. Three streets over, he emerged. Not wanting to just appear directly by the building to be a suspect, Oz stepped out of a small alleyway to walk to the flame’s source. The sirens in this area were much louder. The smell of smoke was overwhelming. Definitely the perfect meal ticket!

The shadowy figure walked patiently down the street, hearing yelling and voices from around the corner. The fire was only just around the corner as well, just being three buildings away. Then two, then one. Oz turned to round the corner, almost impressed by how much the fire had spread in such a short time. It had completely engulfed a small clinic in the middle, spreading over to the convenience store and book shop nearby. It would’ve been more impressive however, if Oz looked at it for more than two seconds before someone crashed into him.

A red blur slammed into the unsuspecting Oz, grounding the both of them. Well that’s pleasant. They fell onto the concrete in a heap, the red blur already scrambling to push Oz away, which ultimately made their attempts to get up near impossible, as their movements to get away seemed to counteract each other. It would be comical, if Oz wasn’t involved in it. A low growl emitted from the red figure, who finally pushed Oz harshly against the concrete.

“Hey fucker, you better watch where you’re fucking going!” The.. demon? Yelled at Oz after forcing him to still, finally getting to his feet. Not expecting to be yelled at, Oz was laying on the ground, stunned to silence. Was this his fault? No, he was walking deliberately slow after all, trying to not seem too thrilled at the premise of the street being on fire. Plus, this demon would’ve knocked even Brian down, with the rush he was in. “If it weren’t for the fact I was running, you’d be a shitstain on the sidewalk. Got it?!” 

Oz quickly nodded his head, trying to get a better grasp of who this guy was. A demon, definitely. His skin was a vibrant red, with short maroon hair. The punk outfit and killer face were scary enough on their own, but Oz just realized something. This demon had a knife on him. Well, that’s a stupid observation to make on it’s own. Most demons have some sort of weapon on them. But this knife was clearly held in a way to say  _ “I would have gutted you, if I had the time” _ , which with the murder in this demon’s eyes, Oz wouldn’t be surprised by. 

“There he is!” A new voice called out, from by the fires. “LaVey! Get back here and stop resisting!” Looking over, Oz saw a crowd of blue-uniformed people rushing their direction, along the sidewalk. The uniforms gave away that they were cops, and seeing as they were in pursuit of the demon? That meant that he started the fire. 

“FUCK OFF!”

The police officers yelling after ‘LaVey’ did not fuck off. They began pursuit, as one quickly got into a cop car to get there faster. Hearing the demon curse wildly, Oz watched as he ran off and ducked into the alleyways. Making sure the demon was gone fully before deciding it was safe to move again, Oz sighed. If lady luck had any sort of remorse in her heart for Oz, she would make it so that’s the last time they ever met. With another heavy sigh, Oz brushed the dirt off of his yellow cardigan he was wearing. This was his favorite cardigan, and now it’s dirty. This meal was starting to be too much trouble for what it’s worth. Even if Oz’s stomach wildly disagrees. Standing up, Oz barely registered the officers rushing past him. Just hearing something bounce against the concrete. Some small rectangular shape-

Oh, a phone. Oz tsked at himself for dropping his phone, setting his hand over it and pulling it back to the void. He’d thought it might be a smart idea to seem preoccupied by his cell phone when passing by the fire, just to seem even less suspicious. What was that new popular game? Pokeman Go? Yeah, that’s it. Teenagers became like mindless zombies wandering off cliffs for the humans in that game. (Emphasis on the MINDLESS zombie aspect, this didn’t involve Brian.) The police wouldn’t have suspected a thing. However, now those very same officers are chasing after a particular LaVey, so it’s useless. The explosions in the distance infer that they hadn’t caught him yet, so they’ll be busy for a while. 

Content with that distraction, Oz made his way to the burning clinic. As soon as he got close enough, black clouds filled the air, only to be absorbed by the small figure. Much better than just some under door snack, this plume of fear was almost as big as the fire roaring all the way up and down the street. With a small exhale of relief, Oz could hear the satisfied squeaking from his phobias as well. Although the phobias could technically eat on their own, having mouths and all, they liked to make sure their host was well fed as well. The street was just teeming with fear after all… Oz couldn’t leave it to waste.

**~~~**

It was a few hours after the fires started, that Oz settled down on the couch. That “LaVey” guy was good at causing chaos, for sure. Following the trail of destruction made Oz’s stomach so full, he probably wouldn’t have to go out for a good few days for another meal. From medical clinics, apartments, grocery stores, and even the police station itself. That demon left a scar of chaos across the town that evening. There were still some sirens going off, the remainders of the police force and the fire department cleaning up the final fires and bodies, most likely. 

The news stations were covering it in grand detail, classifying it as some sort of cult of arsonists going off and trying to burn the whole town down. That might not be too far off, actually. After all, Oz only saw the one demon? Pondering that thought, a weird noise started to go off.

It sounded like a loud scream, and nearly shocked Oz’s soul straight out of his body. There was the occasional exploding noise, some weird guitar riffs in the middle… was this a screamo song?! Oz quickly got up off of the couch, trying to find the source of the horrible noise. It seemed to follow him around, until it struck Oz. The void. Quickly dipping into the shadows, Oz tried to find out what terrible noise machine he accidentally brought into this normally silent place. The answer to which was actually quite startling. It was his phone? The rectangular device was emitting the most ear piercing ringtone Oz had ever had to witness, at an unbearably loud volume. Too distressed to even check the number, Oz scrambled to answer the call.

“H-hello-”

“WHERE ARE YOU?!” A powerful voice yelled, drastically louder than the ringtone. Quickly pressing the lower volume button, Oz tried to focus back in. This was an older man’s voice, and although it sounded  _ angry _ , it also sounded really.. Concerned? But to Oz, it didn’t sound at all familiar. A weird thought struck Oz, tilting the phone away to check the caller ID.

‘ **BlueDad’** was not a contact in Oz’s phone.

“I’m sorry, I don’t-”

“YOU SAID YOU WOULD BE HOME TWO HOURS AGO!” A voice interrupted again, but this was a different one. It sounded a bit deeper, and much more obviously concerned. What was this about? There was clearly some sort of miscommunication here, and it made Oz really confused. Exiting the void, he began to pace the living room. Was it a misdial?? “WELL?! EXPLAIN YOURSELF YOUNG MAN!”

Oz was panicking. Quickly checking the phone again, he came to the same conclusion. Didn’t recognize the number. This wouldn’t be a prank done by his friends, it was too elaborate. Plus, it didn’t sound like a voice modifier. Again. Thanks Vicky…

“W-who is this…?” Oz finally stammered out, and for a heavy moment, there was quiet. The two on the other end seemed very confused as well, nobody wanting to break the silence that was thrust before the three(?) of them. There was some incoherent mumbling on the other end, that the phone couldn’t pick up. Normally Oz has no issues to hear even the slightest whispers, so it was mildly annoying phones couldn’t do the same. 

“Uhh.. well this is not what we were expecting.” The first voice admitted, and Oz could hear the second voice mumble in agreement. After another slight pause, the first voice spoke up again. “Hi there. Our apologies for yelling at you. Is there a Damien where you are? He tends to lose his phone at bars quite a bit.”

“I’m at my house..?” Oz responded, much less tense by the softer volumes. “I don’t even know a Damien.”

“....Darling did we call the wrong number?” The first clearly addressed this to the second voice. 

_ “No, I’m sure I pressed his contact.” _

“Are you? Well then who is this?”

_ “I don’t know, Lucien. I thought for sure I clicked it..” _

“Well, Stan.. it says this is Damien’s number still…”

There was another heavy pause, where everyone was in a confused silence. Oz was quietly waiting for whatever was going to happen next. After all, these two were clearly already in a panic and Oz didn’t want to worsen it. Though, looking at the contact name made Oz anxious. If there wasn’t a mix-up on their end, it must’ve been on his. After all,  **‘Bluedad’** wasn’t something anyone in his contacts would be called. With shaky hands, Oz pressed the home screen, planning to unlock his phone and check the contacts.

That’s when he realized what happened. See.. although this was the very same make and model of his phone, this must’ve been someone else’s entirely. The contact name should’ve set it off. But instead, what did it was the lock screen. There was an -admittedly gorgeous- photo of a three headed dog there instead of what Oz’s lock screen was. A sharp breath was sucked in, as Oz forced himself to report this find. The two on the other end were quietly bickering, seeming to forget about Oz.

“Uhm, I think I might have Damien’s phone?” Oz blurted out, silencing the two of them. Keep going Oz. KEEP. GOING. “I don’t know who Damien is though? I-I thought this was  _ my _ phone, but I d-don’t see mine anywhere, so-”

“You two swapped phones?”

“I am so sorry!” The two on the other end were in a shocked silence at Oz’s apology. But they seemed to regather their words at the exact same time. In fact, they spoke loudly over each other to let their opinions be heard, though it was overwhelming to Oz’s ears.

“You did nothing wrong!”

_ “FUCK! I knew we should’ve given him a spare phone-” _

“Damien pulls stunts all the time, we were just worried!”

“ _HE’S STUCK OUT THERE!”_

“See, he’s finally getting into his rebellious phase!”

_ “LUCIEN HE DOESN’T HAVE ANOTHER TELEPORTER!” _

“We just wanted to see if he’s alive after all.”

_ “WE HAVE TO GO SAVE HIM! ” _

After the first voice, Lucien, finally calmed down the second voice, Stan, it quieted down. There it was again, that feeling of tension. It hung heavy, and made it hard to speak over the phone. The words they were saying as well, made no sense. Oz didn’t know anybody with a track record of losing their phone, or anyone with such… concerned parents. Oz is pretty sure he heard Stan breaking a table at one point during his frantic yelling. So, how did he swap phones with somebody? And who was Damien?!

“Sorry about my dearest, he’s very protective of our son.” Lucien calmly spoke, reining the conversation. “May I ask your name?”

“It-It’s Oz.”

“Well, Oz, would you be willing to help us out? See, we unfortunately have no way of knowing where Damien might be. There’s a teleporter on his phone, after all. But, if you have his phone, he should be somewhere around you?” Lucien spoke smoothly, like he was about to sign off on a contract with Oz. It sent chills up the shadow boy’s spine. That didn’t sound like a pleasant experience, even with how relaxing and smooth that voice was. Instinct told Oz to be careful about this person on the other end. “Of course, we’ll be happy to reimburse for the effort. Along with if Damien broke your phone.”

_ Definitely need to be careful. _

“I’m okay with helping, b-but.. I don’t know Damien? Or what he looks like, sounds like, anything.” Oz delicately replied, moving to put on his shoes and cardigan again. Was Damien some little kid that might be lost? That’s unfortunate, kids don’t really like Oz. But if he gets his dads to talk to him instead?

“Ah, of course. Damien is… oh, how tall is Damien, Stan?”

“Ssssssssix foot…? Small guy. He takes after you.” Stan replied on, and Oz could feel the teasing tone in his voice.

“Six foot is  _ tall, _ you behemoth. Regardless, he’s a red demon, about six foot.. Yellow eyes.. You’re right Stan, he does take after me!”

Oz felt his stomach twist. Lady luck  _ despised him _ , to be sure. Just the description of “Red Demon” was enough. In fact, it made sense. Oz knew he had his phone directly up until that point they crashed into each other. That’s why it fell, for sure. Because it wasn’t his! Damien must’ve taken Oz’s phone, making the same mistake of swapping them up that Oz did.They were the exact same at a glance, after all. With a slow breath, Oz wished he could just turn the phone in to the police. But this escapee must’ve ran from them countless times, by what his dads are describing him like. Stepping out of his apartment, Oz spoke up.

“I-.. _I remember him_. Any ideas where to find him?”


End file.
